


Repeat Company

by MyckiCade



Series: Clean Up Real Nice [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Banter, Hormones, Lip Tries, M/M, Mentions of Abortion, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 15:27:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4268463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyckiCade/pseuds/MyckiCade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a reason why Mickey didn't want to do this, in the first place. Just, for the record.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Repeat Company

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Shameless. I am not that clever. This work is for fan enjoyment only. No infringement is intended.
> 
> Author's Notes: I waffled over Lip, but... It just seems like something he would eventually end up doing, anyway.

There's a reason why Mickey didn't want to do this, in the first place. Just, for the record.

The doctor's looking between the file in front of her, and Mickey... Back to the file, and back to Mickey... Detour to Lip, whose presence Mickey _still_ can't explain, for the life of him... And, finally, back to the file. He's not sure what the fuck she's looking at. Hell, there can't be more than five pieces of paper in the damned thing, most of which, he'd filled out in the waiting room.

“You got the secret meaning of life, in there, or somethin'?” Mickey asks, once the back-and-forth finally chips away at his nerves. Lip glances his way, a dull expression on his face, and Mickey scoffs. “What? It's been ten minutes, already.”

Before Lip can reply, the doctor – Dr. Bonnie Meeker - raises her hand. “It's quite all right. My apologies, but, I was trying to place your names...” She looks between them, one more time, before something seems to register. Mickey can only imagine the ideas running through her head, to start with. After all, he'd got Dr. Meeker's name from Mandy. “Mister Milkovich-”

“Ah, nah, please,” Mickey jumps in. “It's just Mickey.  _Mister_ Milkovich is still in the can.”

Meeker blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Um, he means that his rotten, good-for-nothing father is a guest to one of the many great correctional facilities of the State of Illinois,” Lip clarifies. Mickey raises an eyebrow.

“The fuck? What, I can't talk for myself, now, is that it?”

Lip sighs. “Mickey, shut the hell up, huh?”

“Screw you.”

“Gentlemen,” Meeker interrupts, as politely as possible. Mickey knows they're not making it easy, but,  _damn it,_ why did he have to agree to letting Lip tag along?

Oh, yeah. Lip had access to a decent enough car. Fuck.

“Sorry, doctor,” Lip mumbles, sinking down a bit further in his chair. He looks thoroughly irritated, but he buttons it.

Across the desk, Meeker clears her throat. “Now, it's standard that I ask you a couple of general health questions, Mist-um, Mickey.” Picking up a pen, she clicks the back. “Is that all right by you?”

“Che, go ahead.” Mickey shrugs. He doesn't have much of anything to hide. Sure, he'd  _like_ to tell her to stick it up her ass, but... He just has to keep reminding himself that all of this, this...  _inconvenience_ is for the sake of his kid. Shifting in his seat, he tries to settle in, as best he can.

“All right, I see that you're a smoker, is that right?”

Wow, really? That's where she wants to start? “Yeah, so?”

Beside him, Lip groans. “He quit.”

“Ah, hello? Pregnant, not mute, you son of a-”

“Okay,” Meeker once again interrupts, not seeming too terribly disturbed by their antics. South Side, Mickey figures. She probably gets a lot of it. Good on her, knowing a lost cause, when she sees it. “That's good. Drink alcohol... You also checked 'yes'?”

“Quit that, too,” he spits, lip curling in annoyance. “One of the best parts of getting this all over with, actually. I can't stand the smell of the stuff, right now.”

“Totally normal,” Meeker drones, scratching something down into her notes. Mickey just loves how involved she sounds (hint: sarcasm). But, really what did he expect, coming from a free clinic? “Any drugs?”

There's a brief moment of silence, in which, for once in his life, Mickey isn't sure what to say. 'Fuck you' doesn't really seem appropriate – also a first – given that the woman is supposedly here to help him. But, if she tries to report it? If he admits to it, what-

“Not since he found out, no,” Lip once again supplies, eyes on Mickey in a way that is just  _begging_ him to argue it. Uncomfortable as he already is, it's not hard to get Mickey to take the bait.

“Yeah, right,” he scoffs. “Like I do drugs.”

Lip openly gapes at him. “I've seen you swallow everything but your shorts.”

“You have not,” Mickey counters. “Anyway, I quit pills, months ago.”

“So, you admit to pills?” Meeker asks, barely sparing him a glance, before writing down something else. Mickey opens his mouth to ask why she wants to know  _that,_ when Lip opens his trap,  _again._

“Yeah, and, what did you move on to?” he asks. “I mean, I know you snorted coke. You shoot up, too?”

Mickey's eyes widen. “Like hell! I've  _never_ put a needle in my damn arm, Gallagher.”

Here, Meeker clears her throat, loud enough to get their attention. “So, we've covered that...” With another scribble, she turns to to her next page. “How about your health? Are you generally in good health?”

Mickey shugs. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Any history of STDs?”

Oh, Christ, that's a loaded question, in more ways than one. Further, it's one he isn't sure he wants Lip to hear the answers to.

“Ah...” He reaches a hand to the back of his own neck, rubbing, pointlessly. “Kinda', yeah.”

Meeker opens her mouth, looking ready to ask for clarification, when Lip decides, yet again, that it's okay to open his trap. “You caught the clap, like, what? A year ago?”

“Yeah, but, I got it off your brother, thank you, so very fucking much.” Mickey scoffs, honestly a little bit mortified that Lip even _knows,_ let alone the fact that he remembers it. He, himself, wishes he could forget. Ian had been sticking it to more guys than Mickey'd known about – probably more than Ian even realized – and, as usual, it came back to bite _Mickey_ in the ass.

Beside him, Lip just nods. “Sounds about right, actually. And, there was that time you got crabs off Angie Zago.”

A groan escapes Mickey's lips. “Not once. _Twice._ ” He shakes his head, before a thought stops him, and he turns in his seat to better face Lip. “How the _fuck_ do you know so much about where I stick my dick, Gallagher?”

“It's a chatty neighbourhood,” Lip replies, defensively, waving his hand in a 'what the fuck do you expect?' gesture. “People talk. I'll be damned if I know why, but, they seem to like to talk about you.”

Honestly... that stings, a bit. Be damned if he shows it, but, Mickey won't lie to himself. “Yeah, that's 'cause people don't got nothin' better to do, than run it about the town trash,” he grumbles, shifting back around in his chair, more properly. He holds no delusions over it. If there's a nice piece of gossip attached to his family, people won't let it go. Really, he just can't _wait_ for word to get out that he's knocked-up. Boy, won't _that_ go over, well.

A moment passes, in silence, before Dr. Meeker clears her throat. “Well, you've certainly painted me quite the picture.” Clicking her pen to a close, she folds her hands over top of Mickey's open file, and smiles to them. It catches Mickey off his guard, a little bit, the calm, non-judgmental look on the woman's face. He's used to the exact opposite. “Let's focus in on your pregnancy.” The word nearly has Mickey cringing. “Do you have a general idea of how far along you are?”

Mickey's thoughts stutter, for a second. Does he know how long it's been? Does it say something negative about him, the fact that he doesn't know? To be fair, he's a (mostly) healthy young man, with an equally healthy sexual appetite. But, between Ian's episodes, and the meds... The actual act had become somewhat irregular. And, it's not like he has it all written down, somewhere. He doesn't really know how long it takes between one stage, and the next, or how far back he would have to count to get it right. When it comes right down to it, he doesn't know jack _shit_ about this pregnancy thing, only that it's happening to him, and it fucking _sucks,_ and, damn it, why is his vision blurring?

A weight settles against his chest, then, hard and heavy, overbearing in its persistence to suck the air from his lungs. His eyes are burning, besides, and he fights back the tears that are threatening to fall. Shit, he's only been pregnant for a little while (or, so, he thinks), and he's already fucking it up. _Shit,_ he can't do this! He can't be a parent, not a proper one, not now. Probably not _ever,_ if history is going to decide to speak for him, now. Mickey knows that Yev is only alive because of Svetlana. The kid would probably be better off if Mickey didn't so much as _look_ in his direction, ever again. How is he going to manage another one? As a fucking _mother,_ of all things, this time?

It takes a moment for Mickey to realize that something – someone – is touching him, a warm hand settled over his forearm. Looking down, he sees Lip, kneeling beside his chair. He looks concerned, maybe a little bit freaked out, and he's saying something, but, Mickey can't hear much of it. Taking a few, deep breaths, Mickey tries to steady the erratic, off-beat rhythm his heart is dancing to, inside of his chest. Soon enough, Lip's voice comes into focus.

“-give us a minute?" He's talking to Meeker, Mickey concludes, watching the woman rise from her seat, and step out into the hallway. Lip is speaking, again, as soon as the door clicks shut. Quickly, Mickey returns his eyes to the other man. “Hey, you back with me, now?”

Mickey nods, feeling his face flush, hot with embarrassment. He says nothing, just glances down at his own lap. Jesus Christ, if the rest of the pregnancy is gonna' be this way... He doesn't know if he has it in him to stick it out.

And, shit, isn't _that_ just another weight to toss onto his shoulders?

“Mickey.” Lip's voice is firm, but careful, and Mickey looks back to him. “What's the matter?”

“I can't do it,” he forces out, his own voice a little rough. He doesn't think the words through, just blurts them out, like some dumb ass. “I'll fuck it all up, man...”

Lip blinks, twice. Beyond that, his expression doesn't change, still worried. “Fuck what up? Having a kid? Dude, people had kids, all the time. There's nothing to it.”

“Yeah, well, they're not all alone!” Mickey snaps. And, _there it is._ The thing that he's been trying so hard, _so fucking hard_ to ignore, the fact that he is all alone, in this. Ian's gone, and, while he loves Mandy to no end, this isn't her problem. There's nobody to fall back on, nobody to help him fix all of the problems he's sure to cause. He's not like all of those other mothers-to-be, out in the waiting rooms of the world, the ones who have husbands and wives and fucking _family_ to back their plays. He's sunk, screwed, and shit out of luck.

He comes back from his second internal ramble of the day, to Lip's reply of, “And, neither are you.”

For a minute, Mickey can't help but to stare at Lip, as though he has completely lost his mind. “Where do you see anybody willing to help me, huh?” he asks, cringing back on himself, slowly. His shoulders curl forward, his head dipping low. “Your brother sure as fuck ain't coming back, any time soon... Mandy's got her own shit to deal with. And...” He pauses, swallowing, hard. “And, my old man isn't gonna' like this, at all. He's gonna' have a fucking _fit,_ and, he'll _probably_ kill me.” Mickey shoves a hand through his hair, breathing out through his mouth, slowly. “I should just call that doctor back in here, and get that abor-...” _Shit._ Right, like he's gonna' do that. He can't even get the word out of his mouth. It feels dirty, and foreign, stuck in his throat, like a curse he doesn't care to conjure up. Lip must sense the same thing, because he squeezes his hand over Mickey's arm, securely. It grounds Mickey, for just a minute, and he's silently thankful for it.

“You've got me,” Lip affirms, quietly. Once again, Mickey glances over at the other man, his child's uncle, and fights the urge to check him for a fever. He finds a small, sincere smile on Lip's face. “I mean, yeah, I know that I'm not much, but... Man, this kid? He's gonna' be so spoiled, and loved, it'll be unreal, y'know?” Lip moves his hand from Mickey's arm, to tap his finger against his jacket, over the general spot where his unborn child is. “And, whenever you decide to tell everyone else, you'll have the whole family lookin' out for you. For him, too. Until then, though... I ain't goin' anywhere. Okay?”

The words leave Mickey stunned into silence. He doesn't know what to do with them, what to say, in response. If Lip's being sincere – and, he has no grounds to doubt the man on – then, he... _Christ,_ how has this become his existence? Up until recently, they've never really been all that close. Hell, they've mostly resented each other for one unnamed reason, or another. Yet, here Lip sits, all of a sudden promising he'll be the support that Mickey will need, in the coming months.

Though, it's not really all that sudden, is it? Lip hadn't judged him, when he'd first told him about the baby. And, he has yet to spill the beans to the rest of his clan. He checks on them. And, he took the time out of his day to drive them here, right? Lip has been right beside him for it, for _all of it,_ and, loathe as Mickey is to think about it... It's gotta' count for something, doesn't it? And, if Lip's willing to see him through this... Maybe, he has a shot at getting some of it right, after all.

Reaching up, Mickey rests a trembling hand over top of Lip's, which has returned to his arm. “Thanks, man,” he replies, voice barely above a murmur. “Just... thanks.”

With a nod, Lip nudges his head back toward the door. “Hey, and, I'm guessing you didn't hear, but, the doctor said she could have an ultrasound done? If you wanted. Give you some idea of when the peanut is due out.”

Mickey can't help but to snicker. “Peanut? Really?”

“Shut up,” Lip replies, moving to return to his own seat. His tone is admittedly playful, something that's not lost on Mickey. “It's your choice, anyway.”

Glancing to the door, and back to Lip, Mickey doesn't take long to think about it. “Yeah, get her back in here,” he agrees. “Let's see what this little brat's up to.”

 


End file.
